Alpine Panorama Trail - Easy walking ... and a Corpse

While enjoying breakfast, I listen to the postman's conversation with the innkeepers. Like probably half of Switzerland, they are discussing yesterday's voting results. It's interesting to see how objective and differentiated the discussions and evaluations are. That's how it should always be, everywhere. Unfortunately, a pious hope.

The bakery, where I'd like to buy some bread and sweets, seems to be closed. The way the shop windows look, apparently closed for many years. Once again the result of the decline of local commerce, which has no chance against the domination of the big retailers. We will bitterly regret it one day. Maybe not, because in the foreseeable future people will not even realize what they have lost.

 

Along the Kleine Emme

I just have to point it out: today the sky can't be bluer, the air spicier, the head lighter and more buoyant. Even the legs, including the knees, feel like those of a twenty-year-old. All set for another fantastic day.

It is a hike along one of the most charming river landscapes in the canton of Lucerne. Along the Kleine Emme, which creates habitats for animals and plants, natural monuments can be discovered, but also testimonies of civilization.

According to the Guidebook, the path is even shorter than yesterday, almost a gentle walk.

 

I follow the Little Emme, in the shade of trees and bushes, still alone, accompanied just by the chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects.

My bird recognition app Zwitschomat is in heavy use. In fact, it recognizes a few bird species that have become rare in our latitudes: Blackcap, Wren, and even an Oriole (if I trust the app).

 

 

Birds and bees

While hiking, one is inevitably confronted with all the environmental problems. It starts with the fertilized meadows, dead territory for the insects, and continues along the food chain. No insects, no pollination, no birds. Will we end up like the Chinese, who have to pollinate their flowers by hand?

Such pessimistic thoughts keep popping up, even though I keep encountering meadows where numerous flowers of all colors are thriving. Or this wonderful pond, where there's alot of humming and buzzing and croaking.

 

 

It might not get any better

Well, it really can't get any better than this. After all the rainy days I am somewhat compensated, even if I don't quite trust the peace yet. But I gladly accept the azure sky, as well as the postcard idyll surrounding me, the snowy mountains on the horizon, the hills and meadows and forests.

 

 

The future of the planet

The stupid voting posters haven't disappeared yet, of course, so I'm inevitably confronted with the consequences of yesterday's voting. When I try to think about it dispassionately, it gets difficult. The defeats hurt too much. That the agricultural bills were shot down is no surprise. But what really hurts is the CO2 story. As I walk through a supposedly intact natural world, my thoughts automatically turn to what that natural world might suffer in a worst-case scenario.

The writings on the wall could not be clearer. How anyone can deny human influence on climate change is a mystery to me. Like so much else in these strange times. Apparently it is a fact that humans are in principle not able to solve future threats. Especially not when behavior and wallet are affected.

I'm more than pessimistic about the future of our wonderful planet.

 

Middle Earth

Nevertheless, I turn back to the splendor surrounding me. After all, I am in a kind of Middle Earth, everything looks intact. That's the way it has to be when you're in Tolkien Country.

Tolkien was an antagonist of technological progress throughout his life, hating everything that was not natural, that did not correspond to the origin of Mother Nature. Just think of Saruman, the cutting of ancient trees, the construction of underground factories with smoke and noise and all the associated heedlessness towards life.

But let's remain in the beauty of nature, the lake, the rushing water, the blue sky.

 

So there it flows, the little river, quietly along, occasionally foaming up as if disturbed by a stone, a rock, a piece of wood caught in the water.

A place where children have set a few stones to a small wall invites me to the next rest. Nobody to see, nothing to hear except the gurgling of the river. I watch the water, biting on stale bread, my thoughts elsewhere and yet all here.

 

 

The Werthenstein Monastery

Crowned by the blue of the sky and surrounded by the green of the trees and bushes, the Werthenstein Monastery is towering on a hill. It possesses a very special history, but whether it is true or not is secondary. I quote the first part of the story, happened long before our time, that is exactly when many of our sagas and myths were created. So why not also for the monastery of Werthenstein.

Werthenstein Monastery was founded at a place where a Dutch gold prospector was working around the year 1500. He was an ardent devotee of Mary and apparitions are reported. Thus, one evening after night prayer, he is said to have heard angels singing. Subsequently, he visited this place of power t daily and put up an image of the Virgin Mary there. In the course of time, the rumor of the apparition of the gold prospector spread and more and more people wanted to know about this place. People also reported miraculous recoveries among people of the surrounding area.

As the saying goes: And if it's not true, at least it's well invented.

 

After the sweaty climb, the first thing I do is visiting the cemetery.

And as always, old feelings are awakened - grief, non-understanding, awe. And one always thinks of oneself. It is almost like anticipating something that will happen at some point in the future. Every grave, every name on the crosses reminds us that at some point our own bell will be ringing.

 

The church and a dead man

Again and again I am struck by the beauty of monastic churches. Sometimes it is the sheer splendor of the furnishings, the unearthly beauty of the art, all in honor of God. This church also has its own beauty, even if more sparse and less opulent than Einsiedeln. And yet it imposes silence, I take off my hat, I kneel down, and - quite unexpectedly - I even light a candle. Can't hurt for the next few strenuous weeks.

 

I step out again into the midday heat, sit down on the stone bench. There is no one to be seen, apparently the monastery is taking a siesta.

A small room, right next to me, arouses my curiosity. The heavy scent of flowers and candles drifts out. Strange. What might this room be used for? Curious as I am, I step inside, irritated for a moment, but then I finally realize where I am.

For in front of me, laid out in his coffin, lies a man. He appears to be still quite young, his face peaceful. Rays of sunlight filter through the low window, conjuring bright spots on his suit, perhaps a farewell greeting.

I take my hat off, stay in front of the coffin for a few moments, wishing the deceased all the best, then I leave the room.

 

Wolhusen

Wolhusen is not far away, I walk the last kilometers lost in thought, miss the path once again and have to fight my way along an endlessly long construction site to the little town.

I am welcomed at the Hotel August, the room is ok, the subsequent afternoon drink as well, just like the dinner at the Restaurant Bahnhöfli. The European Championship is on TV, Spain vs. Sweden, but I am not really in the mood. Apparently, the dead man has left some marks on me.

 

Matching Song:   Band of Horses - The Funeral

And here the way continues ... to Luthern